Flicker and Fade
by Shini02
Summary: Oneshot. He sketches dragons. “They need to be remembered.” Continued in STARCROSSED.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Dragonheart, but I do own my two OCs.

**A/N:** This story is now incorportated into another fanfic of mine called **Starcrossed**. This nameless kid was just to wonderful to be a one-hit wonder, so I gave him a name and all the other nifty things that come with being a main character of a story. So, for those of you that like this ficlet and this character, I suggest you read **Starcrossed** as well.

**EDIT:** Because apparently **PEOPLE CAN'T READ**. Yes, this ficlet continues, but **ELSEWHERE.** This thing that you just clicked on and will never ever in a million years be updated! **STOP PUTTING IT ON YOUR STORY ALERT LISTS. **If you want the spin-off, the thing that will be updated, go **here**: www . fanfiction . net / s / 3 9 8 5 3 1 8 / 1 / Starcrossed

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**Flicker and Fade**

He sits on the roof with nothing to accompany him except a No. 2 pencil and a sketchbook. The night is cool but he wears a simple black T-shirt and black jeans that are fading to gray at the knees.

She takes a deep breath as she hoists herself onto the roof, having climbed the ladder that connects the fire-escape to the rooftop. She brushes off her fashionable jeans, then walks over to the boy sitting dangerously close to the ledge.

"What, in the name of hell, are you doing?"

She always asks the same question. She never understands the answer. "Sketching."

"But it's freezing out here! How can you just sit there and draw?"

She never understands his reasons, but he doesn't expect her to. "The stars are shining so brightly tonight."

"You're a freak, little brother," she says decidedly and, despite herself, sits down beside the dark haired boy.

"So you always say," he responds, never taking his eyes away from the paper, unless he has to look at the sky. Which isn't often, the image he has sketched so many times has been burned into his memory.

She watches his hand move the pencil over the paper, creating the creatures he sees in his mind when he looks to the night sky on certain starry nights. Tonight, the beast is like the many others in his sketchbook, made of scales and claws and fangs and wings. She wrinkles her nose and tucks a lock of dyed blonde hair behind one ear. "And what is that?"

"A dragon," he responds, finishing the last horn that makes up the creature's crest, completing a set of eight. "Obviously."

She looks up at the sky, knowing at least that is where he always draws his inspiration from. "And, like, where do you see that thing?"

He looks at her, then looks to the sky. He can see the dragon just fine, but it's no wonder his sister can't. Not many people can. "Up there," he puts his pencil down and points to the constellation hovering high above them, to one specific star. "That star – that's where I see him."

"Uh huh," his sister says doubtfully.

"Well, what do you see?" He asks, still looking at the sky.

"Nothing."

"I thought so," he says, rolling his eyes as he picks up his pencil again. He starts to shade the dragon's wings, which are spread out wide and gloriously. "You're all so blind."

"I beg your pardon?" She asks incredulously. "What are you seeing that the rest of the world supposedly isn't, hot shot?"

Again, he puts the pencil down. He closes his sketchbook and opens it on the first page. He then turns to the first, the second, the third, and soon the seventeenth, the last page with his most recent work. "I see them."

"Uh huh," his sister repeats her two favorite syllables. "Well then, who are _they_? They look like mutated dinosaurs to me."

He rolls his eyes and starts from the front of his book again, naming each dragon as he goes. "Thuban. Rastaban. Etamin. Nodus Secundus. Tyl. Aldhibah. Aldhibain. Ed Asich. Ketu. Gianfar. Arrakis. Kuma. Grumium. Alsafi. Batentaban Borealis, and Dsiban."

"Right," says his sister after sucking on her teeth. "And what about that one?" She points to the last image in his book, the one he is almost finished with.

He smirks at her. "You wouldn't be able to pronounce his name."

"Ok then," she has no qualms. She watches as he picks up his pencil again and continues his shading, now working on the other wing. "So, why do you draw these things anyway? You're sixteen. A little old to be playing make-believe with dragons, don't you think?"

He stops his shading but he does not look at her, simply staring at the winged-wonder on the paper. He is not playing make-believe. "They need to be remembered."

"Remembered? They never existed," she scoffs.

He starts shading again. People like her are the reason no one believes in anything anymore. They are the reason the stars above are slowly going out.


End file.
